


Listen

by genee



Category: Popslash
Genre: Dr. K., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a shrink is a fuck of a lot harder than Chris thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

**Author's Note:**

> for phaballa, who asked for an update on dr. k.

Lance wakes up with Chris's phone ringing on the nightstand and Chris's arm heavy across his chest. It's early still, blue-gray light edging around the blinds and the air whirring on high, and he can see the message light on Chris's cell is already blinking. Chris reaches out without opening his eyes, and Lance drags his mouth across the pale skin at the base of Chris's throat.

"Let it go," he murmurs, and Chris pauses, his fingers clenched around nothing, hovering in the air above his cell. The ringing stops, and Chris sighs; Lance runs steady fingers through his hair.

Lance knows being a shrink is a fuck of a lot harder than Chris thought it would be when he started this, but he's goddamn good at his job and Lance knows he loves it, no matter what he says at times like this. At times like this, they're both grateful for personalized ring tones.

"She knows how this goes," Lance says, gently, and Chris nods, drops his head against Lance's shoulder. "When she's ready to work she'll call during office hours and make an appointment. Until then, she's just a friend."

"I hate this," he says, his voice scratchy and worn, and Lance nods, twines their legs together. "Fuck it, I should --"

The landline rings and Chris tenses against him, but Lance just presses their lips together warm and easy, and reaches for the receiver on his side of the bed. "Lance Bass," he says, and Chris frowns, raises an eyebrow.

Lance waits, quiet on the other end of the line and Chris staring at him intently, and then there's a soft sob in his ear and Lance closes his eyes.

"Britney Jean," he says, his voice gone low and reassuring, and Chris shoves his fist beneath the pillows, pretends to make himself comfortable. Chris hates not being able to help, but at least Lance knows Chris likes the sound of his voice like this, knows he listens whenever Lance's phone rings first thing in the morning, no matter who it is, and besides, he's pretty sure talking to Brit now is the best thing he can do for both of them, all things considered. "It's okay, darlin'. You're gonna be okay."

 

   
\-- End --


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